Page 2 of Colin

Jay popped his head up from the pastry case. “Yes?”

But Colin didn’t know what to ask first.Who are the others? Why won’t you tell me? Is there anyone else who might want to feed on me? Are you the only one who would accept such substandard fare? What if I tried smiling once in a while? Would they be interested then?

He kept silent, and then it was too late—his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out to see an unknown number on the screen.

Colin could let it go to voicemail. He usually did. Or he could use it as an opportunity to stop dwelling on unhelpful thoughts.

“Never mind, short stack. I gotta take this.”

Jay closed the display case, crossing over to their supply counter. “Okay. I’m going to try frothing the marshmallow fluff, see what happens.”

“You do you.” Colin strode to the back, accepting the call as he shut the door to the office. “Hello?”

“Is this Colin Adams?”

“It is.” Well, damn. He’d set himself up for a telemarketer, hadn’t he?

“This is Dr. Owens at Tucson General Hospital.” Colin’s heart started thumping in his chest. Somehow, he knew what the next words would be before they left the woman’s mouth. “It’s about your father…”

one

Colin

One month later

“I don’t want you to stay.”

Colin glanced up from the box he was tearing tape from to the phone he had propped up across from him. Jay’s earnest face looked back at him from the screen, his expression something dangerously close to a pout.

Colin sighed. “I know, short stack. I don’t really want to stay either.” He opened the box to find it full of comics—that explained the weight of it—as well as a few of his spare drawing pads.

He’d asked Jay to send him more of his belongings to tide him over for the foreseeable future. He’d packed hastily last month, filling a duffle bag as best as he could with some number of clothes and toiletries, but he hadn’t thought beyond the bare minimum. He’d been in a panic, his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest. Had he really been supposed to think about practicalities?

Jay’s version of “necessities” was interesting to see though. Like the giant knit blanket taking up an entire box, one Colin couldn’t hope to make use of midsummer in Tucson. But then again, Jay wouldn’t feel the heat like Colin did.

“I don’t understand,” Jay said, his voice dangerously close to a whine. “You said he was better now.”

“He’sgettingbetter,” Colin corrected. “He’s out of the rehab facility and working regularly with physical therapy. He’s hoping to switch from his walker to his cane soon.”

It had been one of the worst moments of Colin’s life, the phone call telling him his father had suffered a stroke, that he was in the hospital for they didn’t know how long, working to get they didn’t know how much function back. His whole right side had been paralyzed at first, and Colin had seen in his father’s eyes how much he’d feared it would stay that way. It had been humbling beyond belief, to see that kind of terror in someone he loved.

“Then why aren’t you coming back?”

“Because I worry,” Colin explained, shoving the box back with the others he’d opened. He didn’t have it in him to unpack it just yet. “There’s increased risk of another event in the early days. He doesn’t have anyone else. Plus, he’s still weaker on one side. My lease in Hyde Park is only month-to-month. I can come back, just not now.”

“But Alicia will be manager then!” Jay practically wailed. “What about your career?”

Colin paused to turn and stare at Jay’s face on his phone again. “I’m sorry…you think working at Death by Coffee is mycareer?”

“You’re such a good manager,” Jay told him, his gray eyes shining with sincerity.

Colin really wasn’t, was the thing. He spent most of his time drawing in the back, when he didn’t have to be on the register. He was short with customers and surly with staff. Alicia wasprobably throwing a rager that very moment to celebrate his continued departure. But all that would mean nothing to Jay. Colin sighed. “There’s a lot of coffee shops in Tucson. My ‘career’ will be fine.”

When Jay looked no less distraught, Colin grabbed his phone, holding it close to his face to meet Jay’s concerned gray eyes. “Jay. Short stack. My dude. My dad needs me right now.”

Jay spent a few more seconds staring at him plaintively, then sighed loudly before shoving what looked like a handful of Skittles into his mouth. “I know,” he said after chewing, his voice small. “I’m sorry. I’m being very selfish.”

It was kind of touching, actually. Selfish wasn’t a word Colin would usually ascribe to Jay, the most effortlessly kind person Colin had ever met. Maybe Jay really did miss him, then.

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